The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-11-12

Ho AOB UT udu-uguCS ADOuC, ana II was not yet four o'clock in the after noon-not very ghost-like circum- stances, you will admit. I had come home early from my club-it was a sort of holiday time with me just then for few weeks intending to get some letters written which had been on my mind for some days, and had sauntered into the library, pleasant, fair sized room, lined with books, on the first floor. Before setting to work l sat down for moment or two in an easy chair by the fire, for it was still cool enough weather to make a fire desirable, and began thinking over my letters. No thought, no shadow of thought of my old friend Miss Bertram was present with me, of that l am perfectly certain. The door was on the same side of the room as the fireplace as sat there, half facing the fire, also half faced the door. l had not shut it properly on coming in, had only closed it without turning the handle, and I did not feel sur prised when it slowly and noiselessly swung open, till it stood right out into the room, concealing the actual doorway from my view. You will perhaps understand the position better II you think of the door as just then acting like screen to the doorway. From where sat I could not have seen any one entering the room till he or she had got beyond the door itself. l glanced up, half expecting to see some one come in, but there was no one; tine door iIad swung open of it. self. For the moment l sat on, with only the vague thought passing through my mind, I must shut it before begin to write'
 'But suddenly found my eyes fix ing themselves on the carpet; some thing had come within their range of vision, compelling their attention in mechanical sort of way. What was it?
 Smoke was my first idea. Can there be anything on fire?' But | dismissed the notion almost as soon as it suggested itself. The something, faint and shadowy, that came slowly rippling itself in, as it were, beyond the dark wood of the open door, was yet too material for 'smoke.' My next idea was a curious one: 1t looks like soapy water 1 said to my self; can one of the housemaids have been scrubbing, and upset pail on the stairs?' For the stair to the next floor almost faced the library door. But-no, 1 rubbed my eyes and looked again-the soapy water theory gave way. The wavy something that kept gliding, rippling in, gradually as- stunned more substantial appearance. It was-yes, suddenly became con- vinced of it, it was nipples of soft, silken stuff, creeping in as it in some mysterious way unfolded or unrolled, not jerkily or irregularly, but glid- ingly and smoothly, like little wave lets on the seashore.
 "And I sat there and gazed. 'Why did you not jump up and look behind he door to see what it wasp you may reasonably ask. That question can not answer. Why I sat still, as if be- witched, or under some irresistible influence, cannot tell, but so it was.
 And it-came always rippling in, till at last it began to rise as it still came on, and I saw that figure, tall, graceful woman's figure, was slowly advancing, backwards of course, into the room, and that the waves of pale silk-a very delicate shade of pearly gray, think it must have been were in fact the lower portion of a long court train, the upper part of | yy hinh hnnor in Ana,N fol1o h, lady's waist. She moved in-I cannot describe the motion: it was not like ordinary walking or stepping back wards-till the whole of her figure and the clear profile of her face and head were distinctly visible, and when at last she stopped and stood there full in my view, just, but only just, beyond the door, I saw-it came upon me like fiash-that she was no stranger to me, this mysterious visi- tant! recognized, unchanged, it seemed to me, since the day, ten years ago, when I had last seen her, the beautiful features of Maud Bertram."
 MT. Marischal stopped a moment Nobody spoke. Then he went on again:
 "I should not have said 'unchanged.' There was one great change in the sweet face. You remember my tell ing you that one of my girl friends greatest charms was her bright, sunny happiness-she never seemed gloomy or depressed or dissatisfied, seldom even pensive. But in this respect the face l sat there gazing at was utterly unlike Maud Bertram's. Its express ion, as she-or tit-stood there look ing. not towards rue, but out beyond, as if at some one or something out side the doorway, was ofthe profound est sadness. Anything SO sad 1 had never seen in human face, and trust